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Message: <blockquote data-quote="cthuluftaghn" data-source="post: 207623" data-attributes="member: 4799">Character 3: Tas<a href="http://home.cfl.rr.com/rtttoee/char_tas.htm" target="_blank">Tas</a>: Rog(4) – Tas was having a bad day. He was now fleeing from the third person, in less than two hours, who wanted to cut his throat. This time, he wasn’t running from a pompous nobleman who was more worried about dirtying his shoes than catching the thief (always an easy escape). Tas was currently being pursued by a skilled Paladin of Pelor who was very upset about losing a prize gemmed dagger, blessed by his god.As he darted amongst pedestrian traffic… tipping over carts, barrels and crates, and causing a general uproar along the way… the halfing was thinking that this was NOT the way to make a living. This life of petty thievery was somehow not meeting up to Tas’s standards of fortune and glory. His depressed mood was punctuated as he landed in a pile of manure while hurdling a mule being led to the market.A few twists, jumps and backtracks later, Tas was free from his pursuer. He was never worried, he always got away, but this routine was getting old. This was nothing like the life of high adventure he had with the Order of the Eagle. Sure, they were a bunch of self-righteous goody goodies, but at least he had a purpose when he traveled with them. Tas sighed with discontent as he climbed up the drainpipe that led to his dingy hidden loft in the city’s river borough.Tas entered his home through the open window. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used the door. The latch and hinges were probably rusted beyond use. The halfling casually tossed his pouches down on his bedroll, and grabbed a hunk of stale bread left over from breakfast. He took a large bite, and settled in to examine the day’s booty.First, he’d count the cash. Tas wondered, with a dark chuckle, if the poor merchant even knew it was missing yet. “Stupid fat slob”, the halfling thought to himself as he shook the bag. “Half the marketplace yelling ‘stop thief!’ and he hadn’t the slightest idea that he was my mark. And he was the loudest among them!” The coins rolled over each other in the sack with a light jingle, not the deep jangle of gold. The skilled rogue knew that there was a significant difference between a light jingle and a deep jangle. Tas tore the bag open excitedly. “Platinum!” he squawked, and dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor. “More than enough to finally pay off my crossbow!” Maybe this wasn’t such a bad day after all!The second “treasure” of the day wasn’t quite as impressive. After following her for more than an hour, Tas had thought for sure that he saw his mark place a rare jade statuette into her pouch. It was the very same pouch that he now held in his lap. As it turned out, the item was nothing more than a child’s toy, carved out of green soapstone. Disappointed, Tas added the figurine to the ledge above his bedroll. The makeshift shelf was already littered with dozens of similar “rare statuettes” that held a street value equal to that of a half-eaten chunk of bitter cheese.“Now, for the big catch!” Tas said out loud to the empty loft. He reached into his inner pocket to retrieve the blessed dagger that had caused him so much trouble, and such stinky shoes. As the thief moved his prize into view, he recoiled and dropped it. “That’s not my dagger!” he yelled, angry at this turn of fate. The object that lay before him was most assuredly not a holy weapon of Pelor.Tas reached down and picked up the eagle talon he had dropped. The razor sharp claw was capped by a small piece of cork, onto which the word “Hommlet” was deeply scratched. The dark-hearted rogue actually felt a slight glimmer of excitement course through his veins. He finally had an excuse, and the means, to get out of this flea-hole and seek out some real fortune and glory! It was then that he noticed something wasn’t quite right. The talon hadn’t been shed as a part of a healthy eagle’s regular molting cycle. This claw was still attached to the bloody severed stump of the mighty bird’s toe, from which it was violently torn.</blockquote>

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